He Fell

A majestic blue saree, with golden zari and peacock embroidery. A very thin thread of gold around the neck and tiny circular pieces of gold, holding onto the earlobes, ever so lightly. A small circular red dot on the forehead and a free flowing head adorned with sweet smelling, white flowers.

She walked in through the open entrance of the temple, holding a steel basket with a coconut, some bananas and bright yellow flowers, along with other accompaniments.

13 years, they had known each other…

A saree changed everything…

Pride in his tongue and strength in his gait, he was sheer arrogance to some and pure confidence to others. Perceptions varied.

That day though, he fell…

Face down upon the hard stone floor of that century old temple, built by a king long forgotten…

He Fell…

 

Years later, at a distant city with a different tune and color…

A large circular park, with one of the largest flags he had seen in his life, surrounded by white buildings filled with shops of every kind imaginable. A frequent haunt of his.

He had just finished a corporate presentation, for a beverage company and was free the day. So upon a friend’s suggestion, he decided to check out a certain Book Café there.

Black, thick rimmed glasses. Big Checked, Red Shirt and the iconic Delhi trouser, or so he called it. The black, skin fit, velvety trousers almost every girl from Delhi he knew wore. Sitting at an obscure corner of the store, with a smiley mug on the table and a “Fredrick Forsyth” book he had always wanted to read, in her hands.

A slight frown and eyebrows strained in focus.

The face was familiar, but he could not place it and so he walked towards her. He would never know it, but at that moment he fell…

The pride was as strong as ever and the gait was sure, as well. The arrogance though, was gone. The years and travel, had taught him well. He had matured.

Still, in this, he hardly had learned anything.

Harder and deeper than ever before…

He Fell…